Chapter Text
Giggles filled the cell.
"Shush!" I tried silencing them.
The cell was already too damp; I didn't need their breaths making it worse.
If they didn't stop, we'd all be in trouble. I could already imagine Father's face if he knew what I was doing. That straight, cold, yet disappointed glare was all too familiar.
Amala's locks covered the peephole we had made a week prior.
Abenna Umaale(well, now Abenna Nobilee)had just married Jabari Nobilee in a ceremony yesterday, the 14th of August. After the drinking and dancing games came the dreaded and expected—depending on who was asked—wedding night. Except, they both spent the actual wedding night asleep. We checked. So it was the morning after instead. Jezhara had suggested the idea to us and kept watch through the night. I do wonder how her parents didn't notice her nightly absence.
Both came from good families. Jabari had lived most of his life at the Sea Pearl, representing his family. The Umaales owned much of the farmland surrounding Carevalla and Carevelle, supplying both cities with starches, grains, and vegetation. Meanwhile, the Nobilees provided Carevalla with fresh, clean, drinkable water from their springs—although I overheard Father cursing them for threatening to allocate those springs to others. Nonetheless, the families arranged a sacred union between the two.
Roughly eight days ago, I overheard Nyrenna gossiping—or "intercommunicating," as she would call it—alongside Nala, her closest friend. Evidently, she had heard that Abenna collapsed to her knees in tears when she heard of her marriage.
I don't blame Abenna. I suppose if I were her, I would've done the same. Unsurprisingly, she remained eccedentesiast through the ceremonies.
Despite his family name and notoriety, Jabari was simply too dreary. He had no interest in war or histories. He was far too licentious, in my judgment. I've heard he's often found at the local brothels getting his fair share. But, from what Amala disclosed to me, all men go to brothels—whether for pleasure, enjoyment, or relaxation. It's sinful, yet they still partake in such vile behavior. May the gods have mercy on their souls.
Often I find myself desiring to be a man. Of course, I'd never say it aloud, but just the thought of doing what I yearn for, when I fancy it, excites me. I could venture to Twin cities and beyond, fuck all the whores of the thirteen cities, and make it back home to marry some dull daughter of who-knows-who, then continue doing so. I'll admit, the thought of partaking in war doesn't seem too appealing.
As for his appearance—he wasn't much to look at. Like most, he had a dense mahogany complexion. He had 22 years behind him, yet the face of a 35-year-old. He carried a good deal of meat on his bones, likely from doing little besides indulging in prostitutes.
"Come on, it's your turn now!" She turned her head away from the hole toward mine, her face lit with a mixture of joy and amazement. The other girls made way for me. She scooched over, welcoming me forward. I stepped closer and knelt to the floor. The concrete felt rough yet cool through the skirt of my dress. I pierced my eye through the hole.
They were both already undressed, fully exposed for us to see. Abenna had a tall and slender figure. Her petite breasts hung from her chest, her nipples making a distinct appearance in her silhouette. Her behind was compacted into her thighs. She easily towered over Jabari. Jabari looked much leaner without clothes than with, but he still carried plenty of flesh. His areolas spilled onto his chest. Down by his hips was a cylindrical slab, similar in size to a doorknob, with a sack even bigger hanging freely underneath.
Six years ago, during the windy season of April, Nyrenna's wedding was less than a week away. Amid the hustle and bustle of preparations, Mother pulled her aside into one of her playrooms. My naïve self, with only thirteen years of life, followed behind. I had no ulterior motives—I was simply inquisitive. As they walked to Mother's chambers, I followed closely. Soon after they reached the playroom, Mother shut the door, and I glued my left ear to the polished oak. I couldn't decipher everything that was said. Mother did most of the talking—there and in general. I remember it going something like:
"Now you are a woman, Nyrenna, soon to be wed."
I presume she nodded in agreement.
"In addition comes bearing children. Do you know how children are conceived?"
"No..." she replied.
She was lying. She must have been. How could she live twenty years and not know? She was deceitful in this manner. She would never fabricate the truth for anything important, but she would do so to protect her image—especially with our parents.
"You see, men and women have very different anatomy. Men possess penises, while women have vaginas. Some use much more vulgar terms, but essentially they refer to the same parts."
A cluster of servants walked past, forcing me to move awkwardly before they finished.
Penis.
A penis?
That was my first instance ever glimpsing one. Quite frankly, it wasn't much to look at—or perhaps it was just Jabari's?
They stood facing their matrimonial bed. Abenna seemed uneasy. This was her first time; that couldn't be said for her new husband. He took a few steps toward her, then grabbed her back—first with one hand, then the other. She shuddered at his touch, then lowered her head to his lips. To her surprise, he avoided her mouth. Instead, he tightened his grasp on her and laid her on the mattress. His cylinder? Penis? Thing?—whatever it's called—began to rise and expand as he leaned in closer to his wife until they touched skin. They lay there still on the mattress for a moment, the newlywed bride's face showing visible discomfort. He proceeded to plunge his hips into her. She trembled, but regardless, he continued his thrusti—
Sharp fingers seized my left ear and yanked me away from the peephole. I hadn't even recovered when the fingers released me. I looked up—and to my dismay, Nyrenna stood upright and uptight. She carried a tone of disapproval and silent rage. Because of the cell's nature, I hadn't noticed her movement. Before I could say a word, she grabbed my arm and dragged me out into the hall. The others glanced at me with empathy.
"How could you take part in such activities?" she whispered and yelled at once—much like our mother.
"At our father's court, nonetheless!" By that time, she had released my arm, and we walked at a steady pace.
I peeked briefly at her abdomen—round and quite small for being eight months along, unlike her last four pregnancies. Unexpectedly, none of the infants made it past three months of age.
She wore a v-shaped, low-chested blue-gray dress with intricate designs in other shades near the bottom of its skirt. The sleeves spilled loosely onto her arms, with a silk ribbon of scarlet blue tied just under her bust, ending where her belly grew. The gown was sewn of thinner fabric than was customary—since we were in the midst of the dry season—but its skirt had many layers. The dress was accompanied by a thin veil that barely covered her half-braided, stretched-out coils. All of it topped with perhaps five different gold necklaces draped around her neck.
"I was just curious," I replied, with a hint of annoyance. I hoped she couldn't tell.
"Topics like that are not suitable for someone your age. I should consider telling those young ladies' fathers what I walked in on today."
What a bitch. I found it ironic how she discussed sex with such a scolding tone—as if she hadn't been doing it consistently for the past six years, excluding the thirty-eight months she'd been pregnant. I counted. I knew exactly how babies were made. I tried not to roll my eyes.
"Please don't... they're my friends," I pleaded. Regardless, I knew she wouldn't dare utter a word. I just wanted her to believe I was scared—that she had some kind of power. If that's what she needed, I was willing to play along.
She grew quiet, calmer, more ladylike. We marched another ten seconds as the silence grew louder. It wasn't an awkward silence. It was calming and complete.
"All right, I'm sorry. Behavior like what you saw is inappropriate and won't be repeated."
I didn't intend to follow through on a single word I just uttered, but it would keep her mouth shut—which was what I needed now. Not to mention, she had revealed the secret cellar to me when I was ten.
"Do not fuss, all is forgotten." Her face beamed side to side as her moderately lush lips formed a radiant smile.
We turned the corner, and two gentlemen passed by.
She would never admit it, but she was quite credulous.
"Where do you intend on taking me anyhow?" I asked out of curiosity.
"How could you forget? Today you are to meet with a sculptor." I sighed.
Mother had arranged this before she left... for... well...
Anyhow, it was arranged so that I may find a future husband. It was altogether a lengthy process. I would spend hours in one of the art rooms, still, while a sculptor nitpicked which features of mine to keep, reduce, increase, or erase altogether. Then, whenever the Nieara was portrayed and approved by Father, a mold would be fabricated from the original using scorching tar. That mold would then be filled with inexpensive metals—tin, aluminum, mostly copper to match my complexion—and shipped off to all the men Father deemed worthy of my hand: any man who could politically benefit his agenda or had the largest amount of gold to spend on my dowry. Then the proposal letters would start flooding in. At least, I hoped not. Not just yet. I still had many things to do before I was glued down by a man—and children.
"I heard Father brought one from the capital just for you."
She was as joyous as ever. Sometimes I wonder what she really thinks—about everything, in her life, perhaps in mine. She had been pregnant for most of the recent years of her life, ever since she wed. Similarly, my brother-in-law wasn't much of a gentleman. He wasn't exactly Jabari-level, but it wasn't uncommon to see him return to court at unusual hours. It wouldn't be ridiculous to assume he was in between someone's legs. People wouldn't say it to her face—or mine—but they whispered. Whispered of her "indiscretions." Whispered how she must be cursed. Whispered why she continued to try if the infants all ended up in the ground. The only way I could help her was by being compliant—so she wouldn't have another issue to deal with. So I smiled. Smiled in hopes it would bring her joy and hope. I smiled in helpless empathy.
"I doubt it will change my outcome, but all right."
"You should go to your chambers to prepare," she suggested.
We parted ways, and I headed up the stairs to the fourth floor. I already assumed she had called attendance to my rooms by now. As I ascended, I couldn't help but wonder what Amala and the others did after my departure. They most likely dispersed through the halls as quickly as possible—or maybe they stayed and watched until the end. I wonder what they witnessed. There were two guards stationed on either side of my chamber doors. The left guard opened his side of the double doors and welcomed me.
My chambers consisted of four rooms: a shower room, dining room, playroom, and, of course, a bedroom. I immediately entered the dining area, which was clean and neatly arranged with a seven-foot-long table made from trees all the way from Sewana. They're known for their natural beauty and dense forests—from what I've read. It was polished with accompanying chairs in a dark, shimmery mocha brown, large enough to seat eight comfortably. The table was dressed in a dark sage cloth. At two corners stood sculptures by my favorite artist, Moosy Yoba. One was of Adira, goddess of birth, fertility, and mercy. She was carved of wood and covered with a mixture of copper and iron. She stood, a babe in one arm, the other stretched out welcomingly. Thick cloth flowed around her body from her right shoulder, covering her down to her feet. Her hair rose high in the air—she was a beauty in every sense. Her smile was reassuring, her eyes warm. I prayed to her every time Nyrenna began her labors, and I have yet to see those prayers answered. The second statue was of Jabula, god of wisdom and law. He sat on a small stool with two tablets containing the Laws of Existence—seven on each. He was portrayed as a muscular man, broad-shouldered, about thirty years of age. He wore a single sheet of fabric with sharp folds from his right shoulder to his ankles. His face bore a medium-sized beard surrounding plump lips. His nose was prominent, his scalp covered in neck-length locs with no part visible.
I passed through and entered my bedroom. There, three maids awaited me, dress and accessories in hand. I always preferred dressing on the west side of my chamber, further from the framed glass. They knew that already. Glancing at my frame and mattress—they looked rather plain. The mattress sheet was a subtle cream white, while the cover and pillowcases were dyed crimson red. All of it was topped by Whitestone, of which the Sea Pearl was built. The paleness of Whitestone, combined with the sun of Carvella, made the palace shimmer and scintillate from the Great Sea.
The servants looked rather insipid, as always—lacking much color in their expressions and clothing.
"May we start, young lady?" one of the maids with a head wrap asked.
All the servants I've seen wrap their hair or braid it straight back. I suppose they don't have time to worry about looking elegant.
"Yes, of course, but first, can you show me what gown was picked?"
She nodded and took the gown, which had been folded on one of the other maid's arms, and laid it out on my mattress for me to observe.
It was a strapless orange marmalade gown with three layers of fabric underneath the skirt and a short, foot-long train. Imprinted all around were simplified sun motifs with vertical teardrops resembling jewels at the bottom of each in burnt orange. The breastplates were tailored to my measurements in a warmer, tanner orange, which continued around the upper waist. As I began to appreciate it, the second maid held up the second piece: a double-sleeved mini vest to be worn on top, in the same shade. The sleeves were abnormally large in comparison to my arms. On top of that, there was a second sleeve that began midway down the first and extended further. Looking at the ensemble, it wasn't hard to guess who picked it.
Nevertheless, I let the three servants dress me. As for accessories, I wore three gold chokers, each about an inch thick. I got to choose my earrings, as the pre-made outfit didn't include any, so I picked a pair of chunky oval ivory earrings gifted to me at my fifteenth anniversary. When they finished, I looked at myself in my wall mirror—it was a little foggy, definitely needed a swipe. But I looked all right, except for my hair, which had yet to be done. I sat at my nightstand. One of the maids understood what I wanted and moved to touch my hair. I stopped her before she could.
"Could you please get Amina, wherever she is? She usually attends to this part."
She nodded and headed toward the doorway.